


Misplaced Angel

by why_the_nightingale_sings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Blood Magic, Bodyswap, Denial, Enochian, F/M, Fem!Cas, Gen, M/M, Magic, Self-Insert, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_the_nightingale_sings/pseuds/why_the_nightingale_sings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's denial is thrown out of whack when a strange spell forces his angel into a woman's body. As he and Sam rush to reverse the magic, Dean tries to readjust himself to deal with this new, female Castiel but the insight of an old friend might just be the push he needs to admit why he needs his angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm proud of this story and I hope you Destiel shippers enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I tried very much to write it as thought this was an episode they never aired, or it was just another one of the Winchester's misadventures that never made it onto the show. So...no blatant smut or obviously non-canon material. I tried my best. 
> 
> I don't really have a headcanon for when this takes place....probably somewhere within the time spanning seasons 6-8. Before the end of season 8, obviously.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

## THEN

_“Who are you?”_

_“I’m the one that gripped you tight and raised you out of Perdition. I am an angel of the Lord.”_

_“I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos—you know.”_

_“Angels are warriors of God. I’m a soldier. You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in.”_

_“You served us well. Your work is done. It's time to go home now. Rest, Jimmy.”_

_“No….Claire!”_

_“She’s with me now. It’s in her blood as it was in yours.”_

_"Please, Castiel. You need to take me. Take me, please!"_

_"I want to make sure you understand. You won't die or age. If this last year was painful for you, picture a hundred, a thousand, more like it."_

_"It doesn't matter. You take me. Just take me!"_

_"As you wish."_

## NOW

“Sam!” Dean roared as he skidded around the corner of the hallway of the abandoned warehouse, “Sam, he’s getting away!”

Moments later, the younger Winchester brother narrowly avoided crashing into a stack of boxes as he rocketed around the corner after his brother. “What do you want me to do about it?!”

“Do something!” 

“Me? Why me?” Sam vaulted over the railing of the stairs, landing on the floor ten feet below, “Where’s Cas when you need him?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Dean bellowed back over his shoulder, throwing a rusty door open with his shoulder and stumbling to a stop. Sam swung around the doorframe and nearly knocked his brother over, steadying himself as they both looked up to the man standing in the light cast by the high windows, “Cas.” 

_“Our deliverance is close at hand,” the robed man intoned powerfully, facing the rest of the robed people standing in the Enochian circle around the young woman on the ground. The woman was unconscious, her body draped in a white gown, her dark hair shining under the light of the candles held by the robed cultists, and her chest rose and fell slowly. “The sinners here must be smitten with the wrath of Heaven. This child will be a vessel for the angel of Earthy Divinity, Castiel!”_

“Sam.” The angel said with a nod of greeting, “Dean. Do you need my assistance?”

“Chasing…” Dean managed, out-of-breath, “Wendigo….got away…gotta burn it…”

“I see,” Castiel nodded slowly. Suddenly, a bestial roar echoed through the warehouse behind them, and the hunters were instantly in motion, closely followed by the angel, racing through the door in time to see the shadow of the Wendigo beast vanish behind one of the support pillars. 

“Cas, the door!” Dean yelled and the angel vanished with the sound of fluttering wings. 

_The robed men and women knelt around the vessel, focusing their energies in a reverent hum as their leader lifted his arms to begin the invocation. “DOOAIP ENAI, Castiel IVMD SAMVELG. MICMA MICALOZ OTHILRIT.”_

He never made it to the door. He materialised again in the open, empty space of the warehouse, stumbling slightly. A tremor passed through the angel and he reached out a hand to steady himself against the support pillar, confusion breaking across his face. 

_“ZIRDO NOCO ABRAMG NAZPS.”_

He was so cold. There was something wrong. From far away, he could hear Dean bellowing his name, but he could barely breathe. He felt as though there was something sucking the air out of him.

_“VIN NONCA ASPT IZIZOP DEZ. POAMAL LONSH.” The leader sank to his knees before the prone woman, drawing a dagger from his sleeve and raising it high above his head, “BOOAPIS BVSDIRTILB VAVLZIRN TVRBS.”_

Castiel gasped and fell to his knees, his blue eyes wide and vulnerable as his angelic light slowly began to blaze forth and he clutched at his chest. 

_The blade flashed as it plunged into the breast of the woman, blood spurting slightly as the dagger pierced her flesh. The leader closed his eyes in rapture, his voice booming forth in a command, “DARBS!”_

Castiel gave a choked cry and the light blazed brilliantly for a moment before he slumped to the ground. 

_The room shook as a blaze of hot white light poured down from the ceiling, entering into the woman from the wound in her breast. Her body arched and the cultists gasped, their candles extinguished by the rush of the celestial spirit. The light was sucked into her body and the slash in her skin vanished, healed with no trace of a scar._

_“EOL FAONTS GMICALZOMA IDOIGO.” The cultists chanted, prostrating themselves on the floor, “IMVAMAR! CANAL OM DARBS. IXOMAXIP IZIOP! OECRIMI LVIAHE!”_

“Cas? Cas!” The brothers, smelling of smoke and charred skin, trudged around the corner in the general direction of the doors, “Cas, where are you?”

They saw him at the same time, sprawled on the dirty cement floor. Without even pausing to exchange a look, they broke into a run, dropping to their knees and skidding to his side, shaking him. “Cas! Cas!”

_The woman’s eyes flew open._

## SUPERNATURAL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The invocation used by the cultists is in Enochian. You would not believe how long it took me to translate the English version I wrote into a language that only really has about 700 words. Unpronounceable words, by the way. Here is the English translation, for your convenience:  
>  _In the name the Lord, Castiel is called to the righteous. Behold the mighty light of the seat of mercy._  
>  _I am the servant and I have prepared a sword._  
>  _I invoke you with holy fire from the highest vessels. She will be you palace in power exalted._  
>  _Let her serve them so that the glory of her will work wonders in their beauty and grace._  
>  _Obey!_  
>  _I made your dwelling in the brightness with a power understanding of him that sitteth on the holy throne._  
>  _Apply yourself unto us!_  
>  _We work to understand and obey._  
>  _Let her be known from the highest vessels._  
>  _We are singing praises, a song of honour to you Castiel!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunk pirate? Think Captain Jack Sparrow running away from the Pelegostos Tribe in _Dead Man's Chest_. Funny image, right? I thought so.

“Ok,” Sam said as he slid into the passenger seat of the Impala, yanking the door shut and exhaling sharply, “That was……strange.”

“Which part?” his brother chuckled humourlessly, his eyes still a little shocked, “The part where Cas screamed like a little girl or when he ran away like a drunk pirate?”

“Everything,” Sam shook his head slightly, still recovering. “Something’s not right.”

“I mean, Cas was always a little weird,” Dean said, looking over at his little brother, “But not this weird.” There was a moment of silence as the two brothers just looked at each other, still processing what just happened. 

“Anyway,” Sam said, shifting slightly in his seat, “We got the Wendigo. That’s what matters.”

“Yeah,” Dean cleared his throat, turning the key in the ignition, the Impala roaring to life, “Cas is a big boy angel. He can take care of himself.”

\-----

“Where am I?” The woman asked, pacing slowly around the interior of the circle, examining the sigils on the floor and robed cultists shrinking away from her gaze, “What have you done?”

“Castiel…” the leader of the group began in wonder, his voice trailing off as he sank to his knees before the angel. Her eyes followed him and held his gaze unblinkingly until it became uncomfortable and even longer. His lips moved as he breathed, “Is it really you?”

The angel nodded once and his face broke out into a brilliant smile, “At last! You have answered our prayers!”

“You hardly gave me a choice,” she said quietly, her eyes hardening, “You are a courageous man to force an angel to obey your will. Courageous……or very foolish.”

“Forgive me, Celestial One,” he fawned over her, “We only sought to bring the Lord’s Justice upon the sinners of this town. We invoked you to cleanse the land of the wickedness which has corrupted it—”

“There are sinners everywhere,” Castiel said coolly, “Why should I care about your little town?” The man blinked, surprised. He opened his mouth, stammering to find an answer, but the angel continued to speak, “Your place is not to judge your fellow humans. Your place is not to command an angel of the Lord. Judgement is not yours to mete out upon humanity. That power belongs to my Father only. Do you presume to call yourself God?” 

“W-what?” His eyes widened and he looked terrified, “N-no! N-no, of course not! I-I wouldn’t dare…!”

“And yet you would seek to control me, an angel, and have me carry out your orders.” She advanced a step on him, her voice as cold as her eyes, “You would try to command an angel of the Lord?”

“We prayed for deliverance,” a woman spoke up bravely, quailing slightly as the angel turned to look down at her, “And you have come. Will you not aid us?”

The angel looked down at the middle-aged woman with something akin to curiosity in her eyes, “Do you consider your cause to be just?” 

“Y-yes…?” the woman whispered after a pause. The corner of the angel’s mouth twisted in a wry smile and she leaned in to glare into the robed woman’s eyes.

“So does everyone.” The angel whispered coldly, “You are hardly a special case.” She turned her back to the crestfallen woman and returned her attention to the one who called her here, “Now, release me from this prison and allow me to return to my true vessel, or I will vaporise your city. Like Sodom and Gomorrah of old.”

But a crazed light had entered into the eyes of the man and when he looked at her, Castiel could see that wouldn’t let her go. “No,” he snarled, “this city must be cleansed and purged. If you will not…..then I will make sure you will not be able to stop us from doing it ourselves.” 

Instantly, several men sprang forward to restrain the angel. Her eyes flashed with anger and the first man who laid a hand on her was thrown bodily against the wall. The only way the humans were able to restrain her was because they were so many. And because Castiel was unaccustomed to moving in a gown. When they finally subdued her, the leader gestured to the only door, the only exit out of the room. On it was drawn a circle and a series of Enochian runes and glyphs. Cas’ eyes examined the trap, realising what it was even before the man began to speak.

“You see these, Castiel?” the man said, gesturing to the runes, “Do you know what they are? I was inspired by the diagrams I found of the so-called ‘devil’s traps’ and I decided to make my own. I altered it a bit…so it would trap an angel instead. Call it insurance, in case you proved difficult or unwilling….or disobedient.”

“I serve God,” the angel hissed, “I do not serve men…and I certainly do not serve you.”

“More’s the pity.” He said with a dramatic sigh, “I had such high hopes. But since you won’t help us, I can’t let you get in our way.” He nodded and his followers lifted the angel bodily and tossed her across the room. She landed without a sound, rolled, struck against the wall, and was instantly on her feet again, but the door was already slamming shut and the bolt was sliding into place with awful finality. Castiel crossed the room and impassively examined the seal. She reached out to touch it, then drew her hand back as it she had been burned. 

She closed her eyes…and concentrated. 

\-----

The door to the motel room swung open and a very filthy, very sour Sam Winchester stomped across, closely followed by his brother who was doing his damndest to hide his smile. 

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” he said, not quite able to keep the laughter out of his voice, “If I’d-a known the troll was gonna be there, I’d-a gone with you. But, hey. You did a pretty damn good job fighting it all by yourself.”

Sam went to throw himself down on his bed, then remembered the sewer filth smeared across his clothes and skin and just stood there in the middle of the motel room, staring sourly at the tacky carpet. He heaved a sigh and looked up to the ceiling as though praying for patience, “I just don’t understand why I had to be the one to climb into the sewer.”

Dean shrugged, “You’re smaller than I am.”

Sam stared incredulously down at his older brother as he tossed the Impala keys on the bedside table and straightened with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, a matter-of-fact expression on his handsome face. Sam raised his eyebrows, “Smaller.”

“Well, maybe not in height,” Dean said with a smug one-shoulder shrug and a smirk, “But I’m more buff and muscular. You...you’ve got a tiny lady-waist. I would never have fit.” 

“Shut up,” Sam tossed a glare across at the grinning Dean as he turned toward the door to the room’s bathroom, “I need to take a shower.”

“Please!” Dean rolled his eyes and tossed himself into the bed, “You’re stinking up the place.”

“Don’t even start!” Sam snarled irritably, tugging his shirt off as he turned on the water in the shower. Dean chuckled, thumbing through a magazine the motel staff had placed on the bedside. His smile slowly flickered and he cleared his throat roughly.

“Hey,” he called to his brother, “do you think Cas is okay?”

“What?” Sam shouted over the sound of the shower, “Why?”

“It’s been a while since we saw him,” Dean tried to make it sound nonchalant, but if Sam had been able to see his eyes, he would have known how worried he really was. “I just…..something’s not right.”

“Dean, we’ve talked about this before,” Sam’s voice echoed slightly in the shower, “I’m sure Cas is fine. He can take care of himself.”

Dean mouthed the last sentence along with his brother. It was a sentence he had heard too many times, but no matter how many times Sam said it, it never served to make Dean feel any better. He heaved a sigh, forcing himself to answer with his usual dick response, “Well, he always did have trouble getting along with the other little angels.”

He turned another page in the magazine, forcibly squashing his worry and doubt into the back of his brain again. Sam turned the water off and Dean called over his shoulder, “You sure you washed all the stink off?”

“Shut up, Dean.”

Dean grinned, then tossed the magazine to the side, finished with it. He stretched out on the bed, groaning pleasantly and lacing his fingers behind his head. He heard a faint whispering noise, steadily getting louder, as though it was getting closer and closer to him. He sat up slowly, looking around. He reached under the pillow and drew out his handgun, easing slowly to his feet. 

“Is someone there?”

“Dean?” Sam asked from inside the bathroom, “Who are you talking to?”

Dean shushed him, looking around as the volume increased. It was so loud. The electronics started to fizz, the lights turning on and off, the radio spewing out static. Dean knew the signs. 

“Cas?” he asked the room at large. A sudden blaze of white light momentarily blinded him and he dropped the gun to shield his eyes. The light abated slightly and he squinted through watering eyes to see a figure appear in the midst of the light, but it wasn’t a figure he recognised. 

“Dean….” A woman’s voice whispered softly.

Sam had just finished tousling his hair with the small motel towel in the bathroom when his brother bellowed his name. Sam threw the door open, only wearing a towel wrapped around his hips, looking for any kind of threat. Instead, all he saw was his brother, looking very surprised, holding an unconscious woman wearing a white gown in his arms. 

There was a moment of silence as Sam processed this. “Who is this?”

“I don’t know.” Dean somehow managed through his surprise.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam was still trying to process what Dean was saying. “So…she just appeared…out of nowhere….said your name….and… _fainted?_ ”

“Yes,” Dean said for the umpteenth time, “Look, man, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s what happened.”

“Well, who is she?” Sam asked, gesturing to the woman currently lying unconscious on one of the twin motel beds, her chest slowly rising and falling, her dark hair shining under the light of the bedside lamp.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Dean barked stubbornly. He rubbed a hand wearily over his eyes, “She just appeared in the room, and I caught her when she fell.”

“And, she knew your name.” Sam said, raising his eyebrows and looking down at his brother. Dean looked up and nodded. “How?”

“Again,” Dean knuckled his face, “I have no freaking idea.”

Sam ran his hand through his hair and turned away. “Are you sure she’s not a demon?”

“Last time I checked, demons don’t usually appear in a blaze of white light, Sammy,” Dean said wearily, getting up from the chair beside the table next to the door. “Look, man, I don’t know why, but I think she’s in some kind of trouble and, damn it, I want to help her. Look at her, Sam. She’s helpless!”

Sam looked back over his shoulder at the girl lying on their bed. Well, damn it if it didn’t look like his brother was right.

“Ok, odds are she’s an angel, right?” Dean said, “You know, with the whole white light thing. And, if she came to us, she’s probably in trouble. I don’t know what kind, maybe she’s got demons after her or maybe the other angels don’t like her for some reason, all I know is that she’s here and we need to protect her.”

“Ok,” Sam nodded after a moment, taking a deep breath, “Ok. So, what do we do?”

“Well, normally, I’d say call Cas and see what he knows,” Dean chuckled softly and shook his head, “But, I don’t know if he’s in any shape to hear me. Honestly? I have no idea what to do.”

“I don’t think there’s much we can do while she’s still out.” Sam said as Dean moved up to stand next to him and together they looked down on the face of the sleeping woman. “I’d say let’s get some rest and hopefully tomorrow she’ll be able to tell us something.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded slowly, “Ok. I’ll take the couch.”

But Dean didn’t get much sleep that night. He lay on the lumpy couch and stared up at the cracked plaster on the ceiling, thinking. As crazy as it sounded, he was starting to connect dots he had thought were completely unrelated up till now. Cas’ strange behaviour, the days of silence, and the sudden appearance of an angel who knew his name…things were starting to fall into place, or maybe he was just sleep-deprived. 

The red LED digital clock on the bedside table read 2:43 a.m. when Dean finally couldn’t take it anymore. He got up silently from the couch, tossing the blanket into a wadded heap as he crept over to the side of the bed where the moonlight was falling on the sleeping woman. He stole a glance over his shoulder to make sure his brother was sound asleep before he whispered, “Cas?...Cas, is that you in there?”

The woman was sleeping peacefully, one slender hand resting on the pillow by her head, the covers drawn up around her shoulders. Sam had insisted that they at least pull the covers up to keep her warm. Dean had teased him about tucking her in, but after Sam had gone to bed, Dean had added another blanket. You know, just in case it got colder during the night. 

“Cas?” Dean muttered again, looking for any reaction from the sleeping woman. When she didn’t seem to respond, he exhaled, unsure if he was relieved or even more worried. He unconsciously reached to touch her hand, then drew back before his fingers brushed hers, clenching his fist slowly and turning away. Somehow, he was able to sleep for the rest of the night…with his back to the beds.

\-----

“Still hasn’t woken up?” Dean asked as he shouldered through the motel room door carrying breakfast of cheeseburgers and a carton of orange juice. He bumped the door shut with his hip and Sam looked up from his computer and shrugged, shaking his head and casting a glance to where the woman was still curled up beneath the blankets. 

Dean tossed the food onto the table, “What’cha doing, Sammy?”

“Research,” Sam said nonchalantly. 

“On what?” Dean asked, unwrapping a cheeseburger and stuffing half of it into his mouth. “We domf haff a jobh.”

“Well, Dean,” Sam said sassily, tossing his hair slightly, “our lives don’t just stop when a strange woman appears in our room. I’m looking for any signs of demonic activity.”

“All work and no play makes Sammy a sassy lady,” Dean chuckled, splashing some orange juice into a cup and tossing it down like a shot. Sam rolled his eyes and exhaled audibly through his nose. Dean smirked, then looked over at the woman, his smile slipping slightly, “Think we should try to wake her up?”

Sam shrugged, “We can try. But she seemed pretty wiped.”

The brothers looked at each other, each expecting the other to make the move to wake her up. Then Sam pulled his eye-thing, raising his eyebrows and angling his face downward ever so slightly. It wasn’t quite a full-blown puppy-dog look, but it worked. Dean sighed and walked over to stand awkwardly next to the bed, looking down at the woman. He looked over at his brother, seeking mercy maybe, but Sam just raised an eyebrow, nonverbally encouraging him. Dean cleared his throat.

“Uh, lady?” he asked roughly, feeling very awkward, “Uh…it’s…uh…it’s time to wake up?”

She didn’t move. Dean looked pleadingly over to Sam but the little shit was enough of a bastard to actually take a step back. Dean glared at him then looked back down to the woman. He took a deep breath and reached down to gently shake her shoulder. 

“Hey,” he said a little louder, “wake up.”

Finally she inhaled, shifting slightly. She turned her face to look up at Dean as her eyes fluttered open. She saw him and a pretty smile spread across her lips, “Hello, Dean.”

“Uh…hi,” Dean said, smiling uneasily, “Did you…uh…did you sleep well?”

Sam cleared his throat and gave him a bitchface. Dean widened his eyes and jerked his shoulders in an attempt at a shrug. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and nearly leaped back as the woman slowly sat up, looking around at the bed, clearly unsure how she got there.

“What do you remember?” Sam asked gently, easing himself onto the bed across from the woman. She looked at him, tilting her head ever so slightly. It was a gesture Dean knew as well as his own name. He stood up and took a step back, clenching his jaw tightly. Sam looked up at him like he was crazy, “Dean? Are you okay?”

“Do not fear for him, Sam,” the woman said softly, “He merely recognises me.”

Sam looked back to her, watching her as she slid out from under the covers, the skirt of her white satin gown swirling down from her hips as she stood up. Her dark hair, somehow, spilled perfectly over her shoulders, un-mussed although she had just woken up from hours of sleep. Dean stared at her, looking panicked.

“Cas?” he croaked.

“Yes, Dean,” the woman said quietly, “It is me.”

“What happened to you?” Sam asked dazedly. 

“Zealots,” the angel said drily. She took a step closer to Dean, invading his personal space, “Where is Jimmy? Where is my true vessel? I must return to him.”

“He took off,” Dean said, resisting the urge to take a step back, “We haven’t been able to find him.”

“Why do you need him?” Sam asked, getting up from the bed. Cas sighed and pushed the hair back away from her face. 

“Jimmy Novak is my chosen vessel,” Cas explained, “my _true_ vessel. He is the only human who can contain my full power and survive. Within his body, I can use my all of my angelic powers. I must return to him as soon as possible. I am not supposed to be in this body, she cannot contain me. If I remain inside of this child for too long, she will be destroyed. We must find Jimmy at once.”

“Wait,” Dean said, holding out a hand as Cas moved to brush past him, “Hang on a second. Where have you been? What happened to you? We need a little more than just zealots.”

“I was torn from Jimmy’s body,” the angel said, “and forced into the body of this woman. The zealots were using Enochian blood magic. Dark magic. They summoned me in the hopes that I would help them cleanse their town of wickedness and of sinners. I refused. So, they locked me in a cement cellar, trapped inside a devil’s trap altered to contain an angel. In this body, in this weakened state, it took me days to summon the power I needed to escape and find you.” She looked up at Dean, “Thank you for catching me.”

Dean shrugged and flashed a shy grin. Sam stared at him for a moment, then ignored him and returned his attention back to the angel, “So, how do we get you back?”

“I don’t know.” She said, looking back at him, “I did not even recognise the invocation they used. I have no idea how to reverse their magic.”

“Ok, well, one step at a time,” Dena said, all business, “We need to get you out of that dress and into some normal clothes. No offence, but most women don’t go around looking like they just stepped out of a bridal magazine.”

She looked down at the satin dress confusedly. 

“Grab the burgers for the road, Sammy,” Dean said, snatching up his jacket and opening the door, “I know someone who can help us.”

\-----

The bell over the door of the bookshop tinkled as Dean pushed the door open. He looked around for a moment before strutting in, followed by Sam, shivering without the jacket that was wrapped around Cas’ shoulders to save her the discomfort of having others stare at her. It was a cosy New Age bookshop with displays of crystals and candles and there were a couple browsers here and there. A couple of the browsers glanced up when the brothers walked in and smiled pleasantly in greeting. A feminine voice called out from behind the beaded curtain behind the register, “Be with you in a sec!”

The brothers looked around and Cas looked uncomfortably awkward, fiddling with the zipper of Sam’s jacket and staring at the floor. A woman breezed through the beaded curtain, talking over her shoulder to someone in the back, “No, Celia, organise the books by _author_ not by title.”

She turned back to smile blithely at the potential customers, then her smile slipped in surprise. Instantly, it was replaced by a brilliant grin as she cocked a hip and leaned her hands on the glass top of the display case. “Well,” she laughed, tossing her dark curls out of her pretty face, “if it isn’t Sammich and Ducky Lips, my favourite Hardy boys. How the hell have you been?”

She vaulted easily over the counter and pulled Dean into a strong hug. He hugged her back, “Watch it, princess. You’re younger than I am.”

When she pulled back, she flicked his ear affectionately. “Younger, and still not as stubborn or stupid.”

Sam smiled down at her, “Hey, Abby.”

“Sam,” she grinned, wrapping her arms around his waist because he was too tall for her to reach up around his neck without having him hunch over. When she pulled back from that hug, she saw Castiel, hanging back and looking very odd wearing a white gown and a rough jacket. A peculiar expression came over the woman’s face and when she turned back to the older Winchester she was smiling a crooked smile, “Who is this lovely lady? Dean Winchester, you should have called ahead and told me you were bringing a lady over. I would have cleaned up or something.” Dean shrugged apologetically, and she waved it away, “No matter. Come to the back, I think I’ve still got some tea in the kitchen, and you boys can tell me what brings you and this beauty to my bookshop.”

She led them around the counter and through the beaded curtain, poking a blonde college student as she passed, “Watch the register, Celia.”

The girl smacked her gum and got up, flouncing out and making the beads rattle sassily. Abby rolled her eyes and led them through the small hallway leading from the front shop to the kitchen of the small apartment she inhabited behind and above the shop. She gestured to the circular table and the boys sat down while Cas busied herself with examining a painting of a nymph in a beautiful forest by a pool fed by a sparkling waterfall. The pretty shopkeeper set down a couple mugs of tea and eased herself into a chair, “So, what is it you want from me?”

The Winchester boys exchanged a look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand cue the shameless self-insert. 
> 
> Yes, Abby = Abi = Me. 
> 
> Bite me. And then deal with it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the shameless self-insert continues
> 
> OR
> 
> Castiel is simply not Castiel without a trenchcoat.

The mug of tea in front of the dark-haired bookseller had grown cold as Dean and Sam explained everything. When she finally reached out to take a sip when they finished, she pulled a face at the chill and the bitter taste. She set the mug down and pushed her wavy hair out of her face as she sucked in a deep breath. 

“Ok,” she said at last, “so, this woman is actually an angel trapped inside a human body by some magic-wielding fanatics.”

“Yes,” Dean said.

“I gotta say,” she grinned in irony, “this is _not_ how I pictured my first meeting with an angel of the Lord.”

“Look, we know how it sounds,” Sam said earnestly and Abby let out a sarcastic bark of laughter, downing the rest of her tea and locking eyes with Sam, “but we thought if anyone could help us figure out exactly what is going on, it’d be you.”

She leaned back in her chair, “You said you thought they might have used an Enochian summoning?”

“Enochian blood magic,” the angel spoke up quietly from where she was standing by a vase of irises which gave the tiny kitchen a homey and cosy feel. Abby’s face paled.

“Blood magic,” she whispered, lightning sparking in her blue-grey eyes, “are you sure?”

The angel nodded, “Yes.”

“Then I’m afraid there’s not much I can do to help you,” Abby said, looking back at the brothers. “Enochian blood magic is dark stuff. Very dark. Two very powerful magics that should never be mixed and when they are forced together they create something unnatural. I don’t have any books here that can help you, I’m sorry.”  


She made to push away from the table, but Sam reached out and grabbed her wrist. He looked into her eyes, “Abby, I know you’re scared.”

“I never said that,” she protested in a whisper. 

“I know you don’t want to go back down that road again,” Sam continued as though he hadn’t heard her, “But we need your help. If there was anyone else we could have gone to……Abby, we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Please, will you help us?”

She looked away, clearly warring with herself before heaving a deep sigh, “I might have….one or two books….I keep them in the back. They have no place on my shelves. Every now and again I’ll get a hunter in here looking for some kind of nasty and I’ll let them look through my books to see if there’s anything that can help them. I’ll….I’ll go get them for you…”

She stood up from the table and vanished around a corner in the wall, reappearing after a moment with a pile of old and dusty tomes which she plunked unceremoniously down in front of the brothers, as though she was afraid she’d get her hands dirty if she held them for too long. The men coughed as the dust met their faces in a cloud and looked up to their friend. She took a step back, away from the books, and quickly forced a smile, “You boys have fun doing your research.”

“Hey, Abby,” Dean said, jerking his head toward the body-swapped angel, “Do you think you could get Cas some normal clothes?”

“Yeah, of course,” Abby said, clearly relieved to get as far away from those books as she could, “I don’t think any of my clothes will fit her…she’s pulling the slender and willowy thing and I’ve got more hips and boobs than I know what to do with…but I think some of Jen’s old stuff will fit her. You come with me, angelcake.” 

When Cas merely looked confused at this new nickname, the young woman reached out, grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs to the second floor bedroom. Dean called after them, “Nothing too revealing, Abby! She is still an angel after all.”

“Why, Dean Winchester,” the bookseller grinned wickedly, “it’s almost as though you don’t trust me.”

\-----

“Forgive me if this is considered impolite,” Castiel said, perching awkwardly on the edge of the bed as Abby went rummaging through the closet, “But you do not seem to be the…ah…hunter type?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Abby’s muffled voice floated out from the depths of the closet. 

“Then, you are not a hunter?” The angel was nonplussed.

“I used to be,” the woman said as she resurfaced with a pair of jeans and a royal blue V-necked shirt. “Not anymore.”

The angel tilted her head slightly to the side, her eyes curious, and Abby sighed, relenting. She sat down on the mattress next to her and took in a deep breath. “Every hunter gets into hunting a different way. Some, like Sam and Dean, were raised into it, but most hunters were thrown into it, many by violence and the death of loved ones. My case….was a little different.” She paused and wiped her palms off on her jeans, “I…I was a rebellious teenager and I became drunk on the power of Black Magic. For years, I was…heh….the witchiest of witches. Blood magic? Not a problem. Summoning demons? I could do it in my sleep. I was……I was headed down a dark road…”

“And then what happened?” Castiel asked softly. Abby blinked and the fog of her memories cleared from her eyes. 

“Then I got in way over my head,” she said briskly, “I summoned a creature I couldn’t possibly control and it killed a couple people. That’s when Jen showed up. She was the hunter. So strong and brave and…beautiful. She tracked the creature back to me. I thought….I thought if the creature itself didn’t kill me, then she would. After all, hunters and witches generally don’t get along too well. But she…she didn’t. She killed the thing and gave me a second chance. I moved in with her, stopped using black magic, and became a new person. I became a better person because of her. She taught me to be a hunter and…and I…..”

“You loved her,” The angel finished her sentence for her. Castiel’s brows furrowed and she looked curiously at the witch, “Would you have leaped into the depths of Perdition to rescue her from anguish and torment?”

“In a heartbeat,” she said without hesitation, determination in her eyes. The angel held her gaze for a moment, then nodded slightly. Abby looked down and cleared her throat.

“Well,” she continued, trying and failing to force a smile, “if death doesn’t bring a hunter into the business, then it throws them out of it. Jen….we were working a job, a nest of vampires….I…I watched them tear her head off right before my eyes. I stayed long enough to repay the favour….then turned my back on hunting, opened a bookshop, and…found my new ‘normal’, I suppose.”

“These clothes,” Castiel said after a moment of silence, gesturing to the folded articles in the witch’s hands, “they belonged to your lover?”

Abby nodded, looking down at them. Her fingers slowly stroked the T-shirt and she swallowed, lost in the memories of her lost love. She cleared her throat and slid to her feet, regaining control once more and smiling. She pulled the angel to her feet, “Come on. Let’s get you out of that wedding dress and into some proper hunting clothes.”

She unzipped the dress easily, Castiel watching her curiously, and poked at the angel until she stepped out of the satin gown. The witch tossed the gown unceremoniously onto the bed, bent to pick up the jeans, turned around, and stared. Cas looked at her, tilting her head slightly to the side. 

“What are you staring at?” She asked finally. Abby jerked her eyes away from the angel’s chest, flushing and thrusting the jeans out to her. Castiel took them and watched the blush spread across the other woman’s face as she whirled around, staring determinedly at the pillows of her bed. “I have seen that look before…I have seen that look in Dean’s eyes several times. Is it….lust? Do you find me attractive?”

“Attractive?” the young woman let out a sharp, wild laugh, “Angelcake, that is a gorgeous body you’re wearing.” She turned around, and let out a small moan, “White lace? Really?”

Castiel looked down at the panties covering her most intimate of places, and back up at the blushing shopkeeper, nonplussed. 

“Just…” Abby said, “just put on the jeans.”

\-----

“Hey,” Sam said, reaching out to grab his brother’s sleeve, “hey, I think I found something.” Dean blinked blearily at him, his eyes red and irritated from the dust of the books and sniffled. “You okay, man?”

“I hate dusty old books,” Dean grumbled, slamming the book in front of him shut. He coughed in the cloud of dust that smacked him in the face and tossed it across the table.

“Oy!” Abby squawked as she came back through the beaded curtain after closing up her shop, “Careful with those! Not only are they older than your grandparents’ grandparents, they are one-of-a-kind. You ruin so much as one ink-splotch and I will hex you into oblivion.” She leaned against the counter of her kitchen and poured cup of tea, handing it to the angel, whom the boys had been doing their best to ignore. Had she been there for a long time? Castiel accepted the steaming tea and cupped the mug in her hands. Abby had given her a royal blue V-neck shirt which hugged her waist and dipped just low enough to tease at what the cotton covered. The dark-wash jeans flaunted her hips, the legs widening under the knees in a flattering bootcut, and the toes of brown wedge ankle boots poked out from under the denim. Abby fetched a jacket from the closet and Dean cleared his throat as the witch helped the angel into the tan trenchcoat, reaching to just above her knees. 

“What did you find, Sammy?” Dean asked, determinedly avoiding looking at Castiel. Sam blinked and looked back down at the old pages open before him.

“Right,” he said, “yeah, uh…here.” He handed the book to his brother, “It looks like an Enochian summoning ritual.”

Dean’s green eyes scanned the symbols and the translations, “Cas, does this look right?” He handed the book to the angel and leaned back in his chair as she read it and nodded slowly.

“Yes,” she murmured, “yes, this is the incantation they used.”

“Abby,” Sam said, “can you work some spell to get Cas back into his body?”

The witch looked over the ritual and shook her head slightly, “I’d need to have the true vessel here to switch the souls back. And...even then, I’m not sure if it would work.”

“What?” Dean asked sharply, “why?”

“Blood magic is dark stuff,” Abby said, closing the book with a snap, “Dark and incredibly hard to conjure. Even harder to break if it’s done properly….luckily, this is a botched job and I might actually be able to help you.”

“What do you mean it’s a botched job?” Dean asked, looking like he was about one-hundred per cent done with all this magic crap. Abby looked at him like he was blind.

“It’s obvious that whoever did this spell has had no experience with blood magic,” Abby tossed her hair and sniffed proudly, “They had no idea what they were doing. Probably learned everything from the internet. Ugh. Wannabe.”

The brothers exchanged a look then Sam cleared his throat, “Uh, Abby? Could you maybe explain _why_ this was such a disaster?”

“Well, for one thing,” Abby said, leaning against the counter of her kitchen, “the girl wasn’t supposed to survive.”

“…what?”

“For the blood magic to be truly binding,” the witch explained patiently, “the sacrifice must be…well, _sacrificed_. Their soul leaves the body to be replaced with the intended being or creature. It is a delicate process and it has to be timed just right. The new soul must be called into the body after the previous soul has left, but before the body has had time to die. Whoever worked this magic didn’t wait long enough and the soul of the sacrifice hadn’t quite moved on when Castiel was pulled into her body. So, she sought out another body she could inhabit. Jimmy’s soul hadn’t had the time to regain control of his own body once the angel left, so the woman’s soul threw herself into Jimmy’s body, frightened and confused. When she saw you, of course she ran. If you want me to put Castiel back into Jimmy’s body, then I need to have both of them here. I can’t do the ritual with only half of the ingredients, so to speak.”

“Okay, well we don’t know where he… _she_ is.” Dean said roughly.

“I might be able to find her.” Abby said, “Location spell and all that.”

“What do you need?” Sam asked.

“A silver bowl,” she said, taking a sip of her newest cup of tea, “a white candle, four blue candles, and some water. There are candles on the shelves in my store. Boys, go get them. Castiel, bring me that silver bowl by your elbow.” 

The boys pushed through the beads to find the candles and the angel brought the silver bowl to the witch, who poured water from a pitcher with a set of rosary beads into the bowl, filling it about three-quarters of the way. She set it in the centre of her circular table and directed the brothers to place the blue candles at the four directions. While Sam lit those candles, the witch took the white candle from Dean.

She held out her hand expectantly, “Your knife, Dean.”

“What?”

“Give me your pocket knife.”

“Why?”

“Dean,” Castiel spoke up, “give it to her.”

Scowling, the older Winchester brother fished his knife out of the pocket of his leather jacket and slapped it into Abby’s palm. With an expert flick of her wrist, she snapped the blade open. “Castiel, your vessel’s name is Jimmy, yes?”

“Yes.”

The witch carefully carved Jimmy’s name into one side of the white candle, “Can you sense the name of the body you are in now?”

The angel closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating. “Michelle.”

The witch carved the woman’s name into the other side of the candle and set it down above the silver bowl. She gestured to the boys and the angel, and they clasped hands in a circle around the table. Dean and Castiel, on either side of the sorceress, rested their hands on her shoulders and the older Winchester cleared his throat slightly, looking a little weirded-out by the mumbo-jumbo he was about to help the witch cast. She lit a stick of jasmine incense that floated around them, spreading its intoxicating perfume as she lifted the silver bowl to eye level. 

“ _Now lifts the Veil of Avalon and let the waters part_ ,” the young witch chanted in a musical voice that rang with magic as her silvery blue eyes shone with lightning as they slid closed in concentration, “ _Reveal to me the place where lurks this wand’ring, wayward heart._ ”

The hunters and the misplaced angel watched as the water within the silver bowl rippled, the little waves emanating from the centre of the bowl. The enchantress’ eyes flashed open and suddenly the white candle with the carved names flared to life, the flame leaping almost to lick at the ceiling. The hunters leapt back, giving cries of surprise and alarm, and the angel squinted as the lights flickered and the flame blazed brighter. 

The witch gasped and blinked, breaking her trance, and the lights stayed on, the flame disappeared. When the Sam leaned down to look at the candle, there was no evidence that the wick had ever been lit. Dean reached out to steady Abby as she swayed and leaned forward to grip the table tightly.

“I found him…her….them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was worried, my girlfriend was not actually killed by vampires, she and I are still together and recently celebrated 5 months. Just a bit of creative license I threw in there. Gotta have a tragic past and all that.


	5. Chapter 5

The engine of the Impala roared as she sped down the road. The silence in the car had become too much for Dean to handle, so he popped a Zeppelin cassette into the player of his car, just to break the silence. Sam, in the passenger seat, was flipping through the pages of the old spellbook Abby had let them borrow, after threatening them with every curse and hex she could imagine should some harm befall the book, and the angel was in the backseat, exhausted but unable to sleep, reduced to staring at her entwined fingers.  


Dean reached out to turn down the music, “So, what are we gonna do once we find Jimmy? I mean, Michelle. Jimmy-Michelle. Whatever.”

“Make sure we don’t spook her,” Sam said, surfacing from the almost incomprehensible sigils of the grimoire. “She was pretty freaked out when she woke up with us in her face. And I’m sure she’s still a little jumpy. I mean, she’s trapped inside a man’s body. We don’t want to scare her any more.”

“So, like, don’t make any sudden movements?” Dean quipped, grinning. Sam just looked at him until he stopped chuckling and cleared his throat, looking chagrined.

“She doesn’t know what’s going on,” Sam said after a moment of disapproving silence, “We should tell her as much of the truth as we can.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll go over well,” Dean barked sarcastically, “Hey, you were supposed to be the sacrifice for a black magic ritual and now you’re stuck in someone else’s body while an angel of the Lord wears your body to prom. Don’t freak out, okay?” He laughed drily. 

“This is not a laughing matter, Dean,” Castiel spoke up from the backseat. Dean glanced at her in the rearview mirror, still unnerved by the woman’s face looking back at him. She was not the angel he knew. The only feature he recognised was her eyes. Perhaps not the colour, but the ageless wisdom in their depths betrayed the angelic being locked inside the body of a young college graduate. “The longer I stay within this body, the more unstable she is. She cannot contain my full power and if I do not return to Jimmy’s body soon, she will be destroyed. Already, I am growing weak.”

The brothers were quiet. 

“And if Michelle is trapped inside Jimmy’s body, then Jimmy will be fighting to regain control. She will hear him as a voice in her head and both souls will be warring for dominance inside of Jimmy. I don’t know what damage that will do to my vessel. We must find her as soon as possible.”

Dean glanced once more at the mirror, then pressed the accelerator with his foot and the Impala snarled as she shot down the road.

\-----

Castiel was weakening faster than anticipated. She stepped out of the Impala after Dean had screeched it into the parking spot and Sam had to grab her before she fell over. When he steadied her, the brothers saw that the skin of her temples and cheekbones was beginning to show signs of wear from the effort of keeping the angel contained. Dean watched as his brother helped Castiel keep her feet and in the deepest part of his mind, something stirred to life. Something he wouldn’t name and something he didn’t know or understand.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked roughly. Cas looked over to him and nodded slightly, then her eyes narrowed and her head snapped up.

“I can feel Jimmy…” she whispered, “I feel his presence. He is near.”

“Where?” the older Winchester demanded. The angel forced herself to stand on her own, and turned to gaze at the alley across the street from where they were standing. Without skipping a beat, she stepped into the road and began walking across without a care for the cars coming. The Winchester gave identical shouts of alarm and raced out into the street after her. Cars screeched to a stop, drivers honked and shouted, Dean bellowed insults back at them, Sam held out his hand to stop the cars as he yelled apologies. The angel continued walking, her eyes focused on the alleyway, and slipped between two parked cars to step onto the sidewalk.

“What the hell was that?!” Dean bellowed at Castiel while Sam took a moment to review the life that had just flashed before his eyes. 

“They are down this alley,” Cas said flatly, “I needed to cross the street.”

“Don’t scare me like that,” Dean blurted. Cas tilted her head to the side, her brows furrowing slightly.

“Did you fear for my safety, Dean?”

The hunter glared, then scoffed and turned away. “Where are they?”

The angel looked at him for another moment, then brushed past him down the alley, “This way. Follow me.”

After exchanging an incredulous look, the brothers followed her. She led them down the alleyway, and around the corner to the back of a building where, sitting on a cement step and leaning against the frame of a backdoor, using the trenchcoat as a blanket, was the poor vessel Jimmy. He looked scruffy and unkempt, obviously the woman who had invaded his body didn’t know how to take care of or groom a man, and they looked exhausted. 

When the sound of their approaching footsteps reached the vessel’s ears, Jimmy’s eyes flashed open and his body jerked up, looking around fearfully. His blue eyes found the brothers and a cry was torn from his lips as he scrambled up, pressing himself against the door, trying to stay as far away from the tall men as possible. 

“You!” he cried, his tenor voice a surprise for the brothers, who had only heard the gravely timbre of the angel, “You stay away from me!”

“Easy,” Sam said, holding his hands up in a nonthreatening manner, “We’re not here to hurt you. Michelle, right? We’re here to help. We just want to get you back into your body, where you’re supposed to be.”

Jimmy’s blue eyes darted between the brothers before they rested on the angel in the woman’s body, hanging back. Those baby blues widened and the woman trapped inside the angelic vessel pointed past the hunters, letting out a sharp cry, “That’s me!”

“We know,” Sam said calmly, trying to calm Michelle down. He could see in those blue eyes that she was slowly working herself up into a panic. “We know, we’re trying to help you.”

“But…but that’s me!” Michelle shrieked. 

“Not exactly,” Castiel countered, her eyes boring into the blue eyes of her vessel, her face solemn, “Your soul was ripped out of your body and forced into the body of my vessel. I am not you. I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord. Black magic forced me into your body and the longer I stay within this body, the more unstable she is. She cannot contain my full power and if I do not return to Jimmy’s body soon, she will be destroyed. We’re going to take you to a witch and she will work a spell to fix this predicament.”

“Thank you, Castiel,” Sam cut in, “But you’re not helping.”

Indeed, Jimmy’s face was looking very pale and his eyes were very wide and a very feminine squeak escaped his masculine lips as Michelle swayed dangerously. Dean reached out to grab Jimmy’s arm to steady him, but Michelle ripped away from his hand, stumbling back with a cry. 

“You people are crazy!” She squealed, “You stay away from me!”

“No,” Sam started, taking a step forward, “Michelle, listen—”

“Go away!” She screamed, breaking away from them and running away down the alley, toward the street. Dean swore, but threw out a hand to stop his brother from chasing the frightened woman down. 

“No, Sammy, she’s pretty freaked.”

“Yeah, Dean, I know,” Sam argued, “That’s why we need to find her before she hurts herself.”

“Or before a demon harms her to prevent me returning to my true vessel.” Castiel really wasn’t helping the situation at all.

“You guys didn’t seem to help at all,” Dean said roughly, “Sam, you take Cas back to the motel room and keep your heads down. I’ll go after Miss Freaky Friday and bring her back.”

“You think you’re gonna be able to convince her to come back with you?” Sam asked, his eyebrows starting to inch up his forehead. “How?”

“Obviously with by immense charm and fantastic good looks,” Dean flashed the Winchester grin and slapped his brother’s muscled chest, making him scowl slightly. “Take care of our angel, okay?”

And with that, he took off down the alley after the woman wearing a man’s body.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the things Dean thinks towards the end of the chapter might be a little triggery. I'm warning you now. And I'm sorry.

Sam paced restlessly. Castiel stood by the window of the motel room, having not said a word since they had returned to the motel room. She stood silently, her arms by her side, the only movement the blink of her eyes and the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Sam looked over at her and paused in his pacing, his blue-green and hazel eyes reading the angel with the precision of a hunter. 

“Hey, Cas,” he said, flicking his hair out of his eyes, “you okay, man?”

The angel blinked and inhaled, lifting her chin and looking over to the younger Winchester brother. “Yes, Sam. I am fine.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, easing down into the worn armchair and looking up at the pretty angel. “Cas, there’s something bothering you. I can tell.”

“Sam,” Castiel inquired after a pause, “may I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, Cas, of course.”

“……is this body beautiful?”

It took Sam a moment to process the question. “Uh….what?”

“This woman I am inhabiting,” the angel turned to look down at the tall hunter, “is she beautiful?”

She watched as his murky eyes flicked quickly down her body and back up to her unreadable face, faster than two heartbeats. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, she’s…uh… _you’re_ beautiful.”

“And Dean….” The angel looked like she was performing complicated math in her head, her eyes narrowed and pretty brows furrowed, “Dean likes beautiful women, yes?”

Sam snorted a chuckle, flashing a child-like smile and Castiel watched him with a peculiar mix of confusion and expectancy on her face as the Winchester laughed, “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

“Then I do not understand,” the angel tilted her head slightly to that side in that endearing gesture the brothers had come to love. 

“Don’t understand what?” Sam asked, still chuckling. 

“Why has Dean not touched me?”

The laughter died in his face, “What?”

“Surely you have noticed,” Castiel said quietly, “He has not allowed himself to touch my body. In any way.”

“When you first came to us,” Sam argued, “he caught you when you collapsed.”

“That was before he knew who I was,” the angel countered, turning completely to face him, “Once he realised…” she pressed her lips together, the words dying in her throat as her eyes dropped to the side, flickering around as her mind flew over all the possibilities. Sam watched her, unease settling on his mind as he thought more about the truth she was saying. The angel looked back up to him and he started when he saw the confusion in her eyes. It seemed strange for an angel of the Lord to look so lost. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, “What do I do?”

Before Sam could answer, his brother shouldered his way through the door of their motel room, looking tired. Both Cas and Sam looked quickly over to him and Dean paused, realising that something was off. “What?”

“No luck, then?” Sam asked innocently. Dean’s green eyes flicked between his brother and the impassive angel, still suspicious, but he shrugged it off along with his jacket, tossing it over the back of the other armchair in the motel room. 

“Nope.” He looked wiped, his hands resting on his hips as he stood in the centre of the room, “Lost her.”

“Oh well,” Sam said, getting up and casually glancing at the angel, “I’ll take a turn looking. I just gotta make a call first.” He snagged the keys from his brother’s pocket and pulled on his own jacket as he strode towards the door, taking his phone from within his pocket.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean said, holding up his hand to stop his brother, “What’s going on?”

“What are you talking about, Dean?” Sam asked, doing a wonderful job of looking nonplussed as he scrolled through his contacts. 

“Something’s up,” Dean said, “I can feel it.”

“Look, Dean,” Sam said sassily, stepping around his brother and bringing the phone to his ear, “I’d love to talk about your insecurities, but let’s save that for after we find Michelle and get Cas back into his vessel, okay? We can drink some beer and sit on the car and talk about our feelings like we always do. But now, finding Michelle is the most important thing, so that’s what I’m going to go do.” The closed with a snap behind him and Dean’s mouth worked for a moment as he stared at the motel door, caught completely off-guard. 

He turned back to look at the angel, who was looking anxious and a little tense, “What the hell was that?”

“I believe Sam is trying to give us some time alone.” She said quietly. “And talk to someone on his cellular phone.”

“Why?” Dean looked so very confused. The angel moved her shoulders in an imitation of a human shrug, her eyes dropping to the side. The hunter’s eyes trailed over the slender lines of the woman’s graceful neck for a moment before he turned sharply away, his jaw clenching tight. “Well, I’m going to get some shut-eye. I know you don’t sleep, but —”

“You need your four hours,” the angel’s voice joined the hunter’s deeper tone and her eyes were emotionless when he looked back at her. His green eyes flickered down and back up to her pretty face.

“That’s right,” he said roughly. He tried to pull off the unbuttoned shirt he wore over his T-shirt, but something wasn’t working and the angel moved to help him, reaching out.

“Here,” she said with her feminine voice and feminine movements and feminine body, “let me help you…”

But Dean flinched away from her before her fingers could even brush the fabric of his shirt. He avoided her eyes as he finally flailed his way out of the fabric, “I got it.”

There was a moment of tense silence before the angel spoke again, softly, “Dean, why do you pull away from me? Is it because I am inside the body of a woman? As an angel, I do not have a gender the way humans understand it. I am neither male nor female, and yet both.”

“I know that,” Dean protested gruffly, still not looking at her, “I do.”

“Then touch me,” Castiel commanded, holding out her hand to the hunter. “It shouldn’t be difficult.” The elder Winchester’s green eyes focused on her slender fingers, reaching out to him, and his jaw tightened. There was such tension in his shoulders. Such conflict.

“I can’t,” he said through gritted teeth, “I just….I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not Cas!” Dean snapped, whipping around to glare at her, his green eyes hard and angry, his hands curling into fists. “Cas is a nerdy, scrappy-looking little guy in a trenchcoat. Not some girl just out of college. Cas has got blue eyes and…dark hair…and I know that’s only Jimmy, but Jimmy is his… _your_ true vessel. The sooner we get you back into him, the better. Because until then…you’re not Cas. You’re not _my_ Cas.”

The misplaced angel blinked, her head snapping back ever so slightly, almost as though she had been slapped. Her chin raised proudly for a moment, then she dropped her eyes to the side, refusing to look at the hunter, but not before Dean saw the hurt flaring in her eyes. She inhaled as though mustering up her courage and, feeling guilty, Dean stepped forward, raising a hand as his mouth opened to speak or apologise or something, but she was gone in a sound of fluttering wings. 

He swore and knuckled his brow, a mixture of shame and irritation flashing through him. He was so stupid, sometimes. What had he said that? He had hurt her. He had panicked, was the most reasonable answer. He sat on the edge of the bed and cradled his face in his hands. What was he doing? He loved Cas, he knew he did, but he had always been able to convince himself that it was purely a platonic, brotherly love. When Cas was in his male vessel, with those blue eyes and ruffled dark hair, that ridiculous trenchcoat, Dean had always been able to ignore what his body had whispered to him because, God damn it, he was _straight_.

But…those urges has been increasingly hard to ignore the more time he had spent with this new, confused, and very much female Castiel. Suddenly, everything he’d thought about when the sun had set and the alcohol had dulled his inhibitions seemed possible. She was smaller than him, if he wanted he could have just pressed her against the wall or pinned her onto the motel bed. He could have taken what he wanted without questioning himself after. But…somehow, he knew that kissing her would have been wrong. He had spoken the truth, she wasn’t _his_ Cas. And once he had been faced with the opportunity to have his angel at last…he knew he would never be satisfied until he could see those baby blues looking up at him, until he could feel those soft lips matched with that incredibly attractive five o’clock shadow scraping against his own, have those long fingers scraping through his hair. He didn’t want to hear a woman’s sultry moan. He wanted to hear his angel blaspheme as Dean showed him the carnal pleasure an angel of the Lord could never know up on the clouds of Heaven.

Dean realised he wanted Cas. He wanted his angel. The holy tax accountant. The little guy in a trenchcoat. He wanted him. Hell, he lusted for an angel of the Lord. Hell…..he couldn’t help but snicker to himself. Yup, that’s definitely where he was going to go. Again.

He looked up when the motel door opened again, half expecting it to be Cas, but glad it was only Sam. He didn’t know what he would do if Cas had returned so soon. Sam looked incredibly proud of himself as he opened the door a little wider. 

“Look who I found,” he announced, stepping to the side. Dean’s green eyes widened and his heart nearly stopped when a very familiar figure stepped timidly into the motel room. Blue eyes looked around shyly and long-fingered hands twisted nervously in the cloth of the trenchcoat hanging loosely from that wiry frame. Black hair stuck up at odd angles, artfully mussed, and Dean swallowed as his eyes trailed over the stubble shadowing that beautifully square jaw. He knew it wasn’t his angel, but something stirred in him when he saw Castiel’s vessel. Sam reached out, laying his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder, pulling him gently into the room so the younger Winchester could close the door. “I found him…her…just down the road.”

“Is that right?” Dean said roughly, shoving down his feelings and standing, “Well, then. Aren’t we lucky.”

“I just want my body back,” Michelle said in Jimmy’s tenor voice, looking like a skittish animal, Jimmy’s blue eyes big and doing sinful things to Dean’s thoughts. The hunter cleared his throat. 

“Well, we’d better get you back to our friend,” he said gruffly.

“The witch,” Michelle clarified, still looking like she thought the men were crazy, Jimmy’s arched brows creeping up his forehead as Michelle pressed his lips together, huffing a sarcastic laugh.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asked, looking around. Dean’s gaze flickered over to his brother, then just as quickly looked away. Sam barely restrained an eye roll, “What happened?”

“He zapped away,” Dean barked defensively, “Let’s just get on the road. Once we get back to Abby, we can summon Cas, then get them back into their right bodies.” He snatched up his jacket and brushed past Jimmy’s body to throw the door open again, “Come on, Sammy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sassy Sammy is the best Sammy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine the most epic soundtrack playing in the background and the most intense camerawork you can during this scene once shit get real.

Jimmy’s face looked positively terrified. “Are you sure about this?”

“Please,” the witch tossed her hair with a winning smile, “I know what I’m doing. You don’t have to worry about a thing. We’ll get you back into your body in no time. You just sit there and relax, I’ll be right back.” Her smile vanished, however, once she turned her back on the frightened soul. She pushed her way through the beaded curtain to the back of her shop where the boys were supposed to be preparing the ritual. “Well? Do we have our angel yet?”

The Winchesters looked back at her from where they were staring into the match Sam had just struck. The sorceress rolled her eyes and planted a hand on her hip.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” she snapped, “Throw the goddam match!”

Sam tossed the flaming stick into the bowl of herbs and there was a flash of light. The angel appeared before their eyes, looking even more worse for wear, her eyes hollowed and lips cracked. She stared at the hunters from under her brows and Sam actually took a step back, overwhelmed by the strange vibes the angel was giving off.

“Cas?” he asked, “Are you okay?”

“No,” she growled, swaying ever so slightly. “Get me back into my body.” Her eyes slid icily to Dean for a heartbeat, “My _true_ vessel.”

Dean quailed ever so slightly. Abby pushed past the boys, reaching out to support the angel. Cas leaned into the enchantress’ arms, closing her eyes. The pretty witch held her steady, her arm wrapped around her shoulders to hold her as she addressed the hunters, muttering, “Sam, go get Michelle.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. The beads of the curtains had barely finished rattling before he was back, followed by the angel’s vessel. Jimmy’s blue eyes locked with the ancient eyes of the angel and Michelle’s gasp fell from his lips. “What has he done to my body?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean said, stepping between the angel and the vessel, “Calm down. Your body is having a hard time keeping Cas contained. Once we get Cas back to Jimmy’s body, you’ll be just fine. I promise.”

“And your angel’s only going to get weaker,” Abby snapped, “Let’s get this show on the road!” They gathered around the spell circle the witch usually covered up with a rug and the angel’s jaw was set in determination as she stood on her own within the circle. Sam gently pushed Michelle into the circle and the brothers stood behind the enchantress, watching her dubiously. With a wave of her slender hand, she lit the candles around the circle. There was black for reversal, blue for truth, purple for spiritual power, and white for unity and balance. A stick of sandalwood incense smoked enthusiastically, filling the room with its heady perfume. The witch stood behind a circular table upon which rested a hammered copper bowl which contained a potpourri of herbs; including birch bark, juniper berries, hydrangea petals, dried persimmon slices, and frankincense; to summon the energies needed in the ritual. 

Abby picked up a silver knife and gestured to the two switched souls. Michelle looked terrified, but Castiel did not hesitate, holding her hand over the bowl and letting the witch draw the knife over her palm, watching the blood dripping into the bowl of herbs. She closed her fist and when she opened it again, the wound had healed. Abby, rather than wait for Michelle to finish being frightened, seized Jimmy’s wrist and yanked her hand over the bowl, pricking her thumb and squeezing out a couple drops of blood as Michelle thrashed squeamishly. She ripped her wrist free the instant Abby’s grip loosened and took several hurried steps back, cradling her hand, but the witch paid her no mind as she closed her eyes in concentration.

“ _Caecus videt, surdi qui audit, excogitatoris essent absque cogitatione, qui enem ignorat, Essentia omnium_.” She murmured in her musical voice, thrumming with magic, as she reached out to cup the sides of the bowl in her hands, “ _In ignem ardentum omni enti_.” The mixed herbs burst into flames and the hunters watched in shock and awe as the woman dipped her hands into the bowl and lifted handfuls of the herbs, burning with a bright blue flame, with her bare skin. She walked slowly around the angel and the woman in the man’s body, lining the ring of the circle with the flaming herbs as she sang her incantation, “ _Dico vos unde estis abhorrentes. Ad sectetur, ubi sit lumen invenire_.”

Both of the bodies within the circle shuddered violently, their eyes closing as a ripple went through their essence. 

“ _Audi vocem meam in tenebris ignominiam. Inténde ad me. Et revertar ad vos per manum faciamus ibi esse dicuntur_.” The witch stretched her hands out to the angel and the human and the hunters took a step back, unnerved by the power they could feel coursing through the room. The young woman closed her eyes and her voice resounded as she commanded, “ _Immortalem esse animam caeli, ego præcipio tibi, surge. Relinque corporis. Gaudent in luce veritatis tuae potestatis. Invenias, qui in ipso corpore pio fidelium. Convertimini ad eum, et sanarentur_.” 

Castiel threw back her head and let out a cry, white light beginning to blaze from her eyes and mouth. She was in pain. Through the brilliant flames, Dean couldn’t clearly see her face, but he could feel it in his heart when his angel cast a desperate, pleading look to him. His angel needed him. Dean took a step toward the flames, his green eyes reflecting the fire as he stared at the look of pain and fear on the face of his angel. Without thinking he leapt through the flames and took Castiel in his strong arms, catching her just as her legs gave way. He sank to his knees, holding her tight, holding her close. Cas was in pain. Cas was afraid. Cas needed Dean.

And Dean was there for his angel.

“Dean, what are you doing?” He heard Sam shout, but he ignored his brother, his hand cupping Castiel’s face, staring into her eyes as they fluttered weakly.

“Finish the spell,” he shouted over the roar of the flames as they blazed higher and brighter. Sam pressed his lips together, conflicted. He turned to Abby for instruction, but the words died in his mouth when he saw the sweat on the pretty caster’s brow and the way her hands were shaking. He darted forward and steadied her, holding her in his strong arms. She swallowed, her brows bunching together in her wan face as she trembled with the power being exerted upon her body. She was weakening quickly. But she set her jaw in determination.

“ _Sit discerptum sanetur_.” She muttered, her voice cracking as she squeezed her eyes shut, her hands shaking. She was so pale. Pale and clammy. But the words kept pouring from her mouth, faster as she realised that she couldn’t hold on for much longer, “ _Sit potentia malum fugiunt. Separata est hoc quod amodo usque in lucem sanctam continerent finem_.” 

The divine light poured forth from the woman and Dean had to fling his arms over his face, turning way to prevent the raw power of the angel from scorching his eyes. The light was bright. So impossibly bright. The flames blazed, then were extinguished in a great gust of holy wind, carrying the souls of the angel and the woman back to their proper bodies. The wind buffeted the younger Winchester, who was holding the witch to his chest, shielding her from the angel’s might with his body and throwing up his arm to protect himself. 

The light peaked…then slowly began to fade, sucked away into the confines of flesh and humanity. The humans were cowering, flinching away from the source of the light. Dean could feel his heart pounding in his throat. Had the spell worked? Had Castiel been shoved back into Jimmy’s body? Did he dare to look? He slowly lowered his arms, his eyes still tightly closed. 

“Dean….”

The hunter’s green eyes slowly fluttered open. Through the remnants of the halo, he could see the familiar head with the strong jaw and mussed black hair. He saw that damn trenchcoat, the loose tie. He saw the shadowy shape of immense, powerful, and awe-inspiring wings. And as he looked up, he felt his angel’s soft hand stroke his cheek and he was lost in impossibly blue eyes. His angel almost smiled, his gravelly voice sending a shiver of joy right to the very heart of Dean Winchester, tingling in the seared handprint on his shoulder. 

“ _Summatum est_.”

“It is done,” the witch translated faintly, mumbling through her weakness. Her eyes closed and she lost consciousness, completely wiped by the effort of the spell. She would have dropped to the floor had Sam not caught her, but Dean only had eyes for his angel; his square jaw, his sexy stubble, the ruffled hair, that ridiculous trenchcoat, the crisp white button-down, and those beautiful sapphire eyes. 

Castiel looked down at his hunter, reading those green eyes he had so often examined, and his face was soft and gentle as his fingers explored the ridge of Dean’s cheekbone. A sound Dean would never admit he had ever uttered escaped his lips and his strong arms wrapped around the angel’s waist, resting his head against the strong planes of Castiel’s torso, nuzzling into his stomach. He felt Cas’ fingertips scrape through his short hair and he dragged himself to his feet, enveloping Cas in a warm embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, I take my pleasure writing far too seriously. 
> 
> Here's the English translation for the Latin spell:
> 
> _The unseen seer, the unheard hearer, the unthought thinker, the unknown knower, the Eternal in which space is woven and which is woven in it._   
> _That fire which burns in every being._   
> _I call you forth from where you have been misplaced. Follow the path of light to find your way back to where you truly belong._   
> _Hear my voice through the darkness of your confusion and reach out to me. Let my soul take you by the hand and return you to where you are meant to be._   
> _Immortal soul of a celestial being, I command you to arise. Leave that body behind and revel in the light of your true power as you find your place within the body of this man, your devoted and faithful vessel. Return to him and be healed!_   
> _Let what was once torn be set aright. Let the power of dark magic take to flight. Let they who were separated be bound together in holy light from now until the end of time._   
> _It is done!_


	8. Chapter 8

Cas’ fingers left the temple of the sleeping Michelle and he straightened up, “She won’t remember anything.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said roughly. Everything was back to normal. Cas was fine, Dean was successfully shoving his feelings into a metal box in the back of his mind, and Sam seemed just as clueless to the tension between the angel and the human as ever.

“What about Abby?” Sam asked Castiel, who strode past him to where Sam had eased Abby into a nearby chair and reached out to touch her peaceful face.

Cas’ fingers left the forehead of the sleeping witch, “She’ll be fine. She just needs to rest.”

“That spell wiped her of all her mojo,” Dean said, looking down at the pale face of the shopkeeper. 

“It was incredibly powerful magic,” Castiel said in his gravelly voice. Dean couldn’t express how it felt to hear his angel speak with the voice of his true vessel, not that he’d want to. And he would never admit that he had missed the nerdy little guy. Not out loud anyway. But there was something in Castiel’s blue eyes as he looked at Dean that was different, something Dean couldn’t quite name but that unnerved him because he couldn’t classify it. Cas bent down and gathered Michelle in his arms, picking her up easily, “I’ll take her back where she belongs.”

And before either of the hunters could get a word in, the angel vanished with the usual accompanying sound of fluttering wings. 

With the witch recharging her magickal mojo, the boys hung around to watch over her. There wasn’t much to do. She was zonked out, so the boys took shifts sitting with her while the other went for food and beer runs and slept or watched TV. That woman could sleep. She was out for a good 36 hours before Castiel returned.

It was Dean’s turn to sit by the bedside, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back in his chair. The witch was curled under the sheets of her bed, her breathing slow and peaceful. Dean was slowly nodding off as well, his chin dropping onto his chest. A sound of flapping wings roused him and he blinked a couple times, looking up to where Cas stood in the corner of the room.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean knuckled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, “Where’ve you been?”

“I told you,” the angel sounded even more solemn and grim than usual, “I took Michelle back to where she belongs.”

“And that took you a day and a half?” The hunter asked with a mixture of incredulity and _totally not buying any of your shit_ on his face as he looked up at the wiry man housing the angel, “Come on, Cas, tell me what you were really doing.”

The angel looked at him with those ancient and ageless eyes and Dean swallowed, knowing the answer even as that gravelly voice growled, “I punished the ones who did this in the first place. I punished the ones who ripped me from this body and sought to enslave me to their wills and have me serve them. I punished them with the might of heaven and my righteous anger was mighty and terrible.”

“You killed them?” Dean’s voice cracked ever so slightly at the cold anger in Castiel’s blue eyes.

“I punished them,” the angel corrected firmly.

“Why?”

“Because they took me away from you, Dean.”

And there it was. An answer Dean had never expected which sent him spinning into confusion, his head whirling. Everything seemed too stifling and oppressive. Cas’ blue eyes were boring into his green ones and he was drowning even as the handprint on his shoulder pulsed and throbbed with something that was akin to pain and yet not. 

_They took me away from you._

Castiel had destroyed a cult of zealous religious fanatics, not because they had tried to force an angel to obey them, not because they had tried to command the might of heaven to do their will, not because Cas had spent more time than he was comfortable in the body of a woman, not because every added moment spent separated from his vessel was painful and unnatural, but because they had taken Castiel away from Dean. He had punished them for taking him away from Dean.

The hunter stared at his angel, lost for words. He cleared his throat and somehow managed to shrug it off, flashing a cheeky smile, “Well, the next time you feel a pressing urge to rain down the wrath of Heaven, wouldja warn us first?”

Cas’ brows furrowed and his head tilted slowly to the side, piercing Dean to the core with his heavenly blue eyes. Dean swallowed. He wanted to turn away. He wanted to look away like he always did. He was always the one to look away, to blink, to break eye contact. But…something was different. Silence fell as the angel and the hunter stared at each other. Now, Castiel might be an angel of the Lord and he may not understand the strange workings of humanity….but he could feel that something had changed. He took a step forward and watched as Dean inhaled, his jaw tightening and the tendons of his neck standing out as he sat up a little straighter in the chair. Cas’ eyes roved over Dean’s body, noticing the way he was pressing his feet against the floor as though to brace himself and digging his fingers into the arms of the chair, his knuckles white. 

“What’s the matter, Dean?” Cas asked in what Dean’s mind identified as a growl. His green eyes were wider than usual and slightly panicked. The hunter’s lips parted and he could have admitted it. He could have admitted that he had finally realised he wanted the angel. He could have manned up and told Cas he wanted to slam him against the wall and claim him. He could have admitted he wanted to mark Cas the way he himself had been marked. Dean could have admitted that he loved Castiel. 

But the words wouldn’t come. His mouth worked for a moment, his Adam’s apple jerking slightly as he struggled to find the words. Then he blinked and ripped his eyes away, “Nothing.”

“Dean Winchester, you are such an idiot.”

Dean started slightly and his head whipped around to look down at the witch. Her eyes were fluttering open and she still looked sleepy and weak, but her breathing was easier and she was in the process of slowly rolling onto her back as she gave the Winchester a sour frown. She tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but moaned and closed her eyes, her face draining almost instantly of colour. Dean started from his chair, grabbing her shoulders and slowly lowering her back down. 

“Hey, hey, hey…easy there.” He pushed her down until she gave in and relaxed back onto the mattress, “You’ve been out for a while.”

“Thank God I woke up when I did,” she muttered, her eyes snapping open to glare up at the hunter who wasn’t quite sure if he should be offended or not. “Dean Winchester.”

“What?” Dean wasn’t sure what he had done. 

“What is it going to take for you to admit that you love your angel?”

Dean’s head snapped back slightly as though he had been slapped and his voice rose an octave as tried very hard to stop a blush from rising in his cheeks, “What?! I don’t—”

“Don’t you even _try_ to lie to me,” the witch snapped, the steel her storm-cloud eyes somehow making him quail even though she was bedridden and weak, “I see the way you look at him. I know that look. And he looks at you the same way.” The hunter and the angel exchanged a tentative, almost awkwardly shy look from the corner of their eyes, shifting their weight slightly. Had it really been that obvious? Why hadn’t they realised? When Dean looked back at his friend, the tears in her eyes made her gentle smile all the more touching. 

“Don’t fight it,” she whispered, her throat tight, “Trust me, once you find the one you love, every moment with them is precious. You never realise how much you love them or how special they are….until they’re gone.” A single tear was making its way down her porcelain cheek, “I lost Jen. I didn’t get nearly enough time with her before the vampires ripped off her head. Don’t let your fear keep you two apart. Dean, Sam told me everything. Castiel pulled you from the depths of _Perdition_. What more do you want? Anyone with eyes can see that he loves you and you had better see that yourself before I get myself up from this bed and slap some sense into you.” 

The angel in the trenchcoat took a step forward, “Abigail…”

“No, Castiel,” she cut him off with a sharp glare, “I will not just sit back and watch Dean be a proud little idiot. I can see your destinies written on your hearts and your bond, your _profound bond_ …it goes deeper than friendship. Usually I’m more subtle about these kind of things, but dammit you two are meant to be together so if you just zap me downstairs to the couch or chair or something, then you guys can have the bed to work out all of your sexual tension. I’m drowning in the stuff. And the continual eyefucking. It’s ridiculous.”

Dean thought the strange warmth he might be feeling in his cheeks might be a blush…but no, that was absurd, he was _Dean Winchester_. He didn’t blush. He snuck a look at Cas and cussed in his mind. Somehow, during the witch’s passionate monologue, the angel’s hair had puffed up entirely on its own, sticking out in odd angles and looking for all the world as though he had just had amazing sex. After a moment, Castiel’s eyes connected with his, and Dean knew he was lost. The angel’s shoulders were tense and his jaw was tight as he looked at Dean from under his shadowed brows. His blue eyes were glittering, bright and almost feverish and Dean’s mouth went dry. 

“Cas…” he croaked, his green eyes focused on the way the tendons in his neck were standing out slightly as the angel shifted. Dean’s hands curled into fists by his side and unfurled. The metal box in his mind was cracking and the part of him that was panicking was trying to throw the blame onto the witch. 

“Dean…” the angel growled, it could only be described as such. He took a step towards the hunter, staring deep into his eyes. 

\-----

When Sam returned from his supply run, bearing get well gifts of boxes of tea and Double-Stuf Oreos and pomegranates, he was taken aback to find the witch cuddled up on the couch with a copy of the private journal of John Dee. He looked around for a moment then cleared his throat softly, “Uh, how did you get down here?”

“Castiel,” she said absently, turning another page, “He’s handy, your angel friend.”

Sam set the bags on the kitchen counter, “Yeah, he is. Where _is_ Cas?”

“With Dean.”

There was a pause.

“And where’s Dean?”

The witch looked up at the tall hunter with a twinkle in her eye and the tiniest of wicked smiled playing about her lips, “Upstairs.”

It took him a second to understand what she meant. But once he processed it, the grin that spread across his face was big enough that it threatened to break him in half. “You actually did it.”

She tossed a casual shrug, grinning as well, “You called for my help.”

Sam beamed and Abby winked and they both knew that they were thinking the same thing.

_Finally._

## EXECUTIVE PRODUCERS

## Eric Kripke

## Robert Singer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rolling end credits*
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this little story!
> 
> Keep a lookout for an extra scene I might piece on to the end in a little bit. Shameless lemon and blatant smut. To appease my hormones.


	9. Extra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the hunter and the angel mate.
> 
> OR
> 
> In which we discover what exactly was going on upstairs when Sam came back.
> 
> OR
> 
> In which the author has very limited exposure to gay sex and tries her best to write something worthwhile and full of smutty, lemony goodness.

Dean thought the strange warmth he might be feeling in his cheeks might be a blush…but no, that was absurd, he was _Dean Winchester_. He didn’t blush. He snuck a look at Cas and cussed in his mind. Somehow, during the witch’s passionate monologue, the angel’s hair had puffed up entirely on its own, sticking out in odd angles and looking for all the world as though he had just had amazing sex. After a moment, Castiel’s eyes connected with his, and Dean knew he was lost. The angel’s shoulders were tense and his jaw was tight as he looked at Dean from under his shadowed brows. His blue eyes were glittering, bright and almost feverish and Dean’s mouth went dry. 

“Cas…” he croaked, his green eyes focused on the way the tendons in his neck were standing out slightly as the angel shifted. Dean’s hands curled into fists by his side and unfurled. The metal box in his mind was cracking and the part of him that was panicking was trying to throw the blame onto the witch. 

“Dean…” the angel growled, it could only be described as such. He took a step towards the hunter, staring deep into his eyes. The hunter’s jaw tightened and he violently fought the urge to grab Castiel by the lapels of his trenchcoat and slam his lips against Cas’ mouth. The angel reached out his slender-fingered hand and when he touched the Winchester’s face, the metal box in Dean’s mind exploded and he was lost. His fingers bunched in the trenchcoat and his green eyes squeezed shut as he thought _fuck it, why not_ and mashed his lips against the mouth of the angel. Cas made a small noise in the back of his throat and Dean threw his caution and inhibitions to the wind, yanking Castiel against his chest and trying to put as much of his frustration and passion into the kiss as possible.

A small noise disrupted them and they broke apart, surfacing from the sudden rush of emotion to look down. There was a beautiful smile on the pretty face of the witch and she was watching them finally give in to their emotion. Dean shuffled his feet embarrassedly but the angel was looking down at the woman with a strange mixture of confusion and sympathy in his heavenly blue eyes. She pressed her lips together and looked away, trying to blink away the tears in her eyes. Castiel disentangled himself from Dean’s arms and sat down on the mattress next to her. He took her face in his hands and gently brushed away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Why do you cry?” he whispered and she tried to smile through her tears.

“Jen would be proud,” she managed. 

“May I tell you something, Abigail?” the angel asked quietly. The young woman nodded, tucking her dark hair behind her ear. “I have met your lover, Jen. She is in Heaven. And her Heaven is incomplete without you.”

The witch wept and Castiel kissed her on the forehead, tenderly touching his fingertips to her temple. She vanished and the angel looked up to Dean with such pure, innocent love in his blue eyes that Dean could hardly believe he had never realised that Cas loved him. He took a step forward and ran his fingers down Castiel’s cheek and over the stubble of his strong jaw, looking down at him for a moment as though to memorise his face before he pulled the angel up by his silk tie and pressed a strong kiss to his lips. The angel’s hands reached around to grip Dean’s hips and Dean’s fingers combed through Cas’ dark hair.

Kissing him felt so right, so natural, and even though Dean still refused to call himself gay, he knew that no woman would ever taste as good or feel so lithe or appealing as his angel. Almost experimentally, Castiel parted his lips and traced his tongue over Dean’s bottom lip, listening to the sinful thoughts running through Dean’s brain and feeling his heart begin to race as he heard all the things Dean wanted to do to him. They broke apart for air and Cas’ hands tugged impatiently at the hem of Dean’s shirt. Dean’s breath caught at the look of hunger and the spark of desire flaring in the angel’s handsome face. That look awoke in him something he had never even dared to name. It was raw and powerful and primal and he was filled with the uncontrollable need to make Castiel _his_. 

He grabbed Cas’ head and twisted his fingers though his hair, holding him still as his teeth closed on the angel’s bottom lip and he sucked on it, nipping at his lip and slipping his tongue in to dance with Cas’. The angel made a noise in the back of his throat and his fingers dug into Dean’s hips through his jeans, pulling himself closer and trying to match his movements, but his vessel, his body, was reacting in ways he couldn’t understand. His heart was pounding and he felt hot and flustered, there was a stirring in the pit of his stomach and lower. There was a desire kindled in his body and he hungered for Dean, he needed his hunter. It was very strange, but something told him not to think too much about it, rather to give in to it and let the desire guide him. 

As for Dean, he was rapidly forgetting why he had ever wanted anyone else. As his hands roved over the lithe body of his angel, he needed to mark him, to claim him, to take him, to ravage him, to _fuck him_. His mind had so often given him images of what he thought the angel would look like in the throes of lust, but now that he was presented with an opportunity to hear the angel of the Lord blaspheme as he experienced carnal pleasure, Dean wasn’t quite sure how to begin. 

His experience had always been with women. If Cas was a woman, which he had been for some time, where would Dean start? Right. Get his clothes off. 

Dean’s fingers loosened Cas’ tie, ripping it away from his neck and tossing it away. His hands practically tore the trenchcoat away from his slender shoulders. Their breathing was coming faster and Cas nipped at the skin under Dean’s jaw, pulling his arms free of the sleeves of the coat as Dean roughly pulled it off and threw it to the side. Heavenly blue eyes locked with sinful green, and a powerful push sent Cas backward onto the bed. Dean’s hands yanked the hem of Cas’ shirt free from where it was modestly tucked into his pants, lifting it to reveal the strong planes of the warrior-angel’s toned torso. The hunter ran his tongue along Castiel’s lithe muscles and the angel let his head fall back onto the pillow, a soft groan escaping his lips as his fingers worked feverishly to undo the buttons of his shirt, shrugging out of it and pushing it away, his muscles rippling under Dean’s mouth. 

Dean explored the torso of the body he had so yearned for with fingers and lips and tongue, only pausing to sit up to pull of his own shirt. As he bared his muscular chest, tossing his shirt to the side, Cas' arms slid around his waist, his fingers gripping at the powerful muscles on the hunter’s back, and his eyes darkened, even as Dean watched, into a feral indigo. His voice lowered a couple notches into a husky growl, “... _Dean_.....”

Dean sucked in a moan, the darker side of him purring in satisfaction. He didn’t want to admit to himself how long he had waited and yearned to hear the angel say his name like that, so needy and wanting and oozing lust. The angel looked up at his hunter with the eyes he knew the Winchester couldn’t resist, and his fingers gripped the muscles of Dean's back, digging almost painfully into his flesh as the tip of Cas' tongue flicked out to wet his lips. There was still a pensive look about his face, and he intently examined the intricacies of the human expression of desire which he found so utterly fascinating that he never wanted to look away.

“Cas…” Dean growled, his green eyes sharpening as he drank in the sight of his angel, lying beneath him and staring up at him with his blue eyes that screamed at the hunter to fuck him into the mattress. He was only too happy to oblige. One of the hunter’s hands slid down Castiel's muscled torso and palmed his cock through his pants, while the other grabbed a fistful of surprisingly soft, dark hair to pull, forcing the angel’s head back as Dean's tongue ran over the angel's stubbly jaw. Cas’ blue eyes glittered with lust as his back arched and his hips rolled instinctively to press against Dean's hand and he bit his lip to muffle a moan. 

There were still too many layers of clothing separating them and Dean drew away to undo his belt and shuck off his jeans. Cas watched him with hungry eyes and curiously mirrored his motions, ridding himself of his own trousers. There were noticeable bulges in both pairs of boxers and the men let out identical hisses of sexually frustrated pleasure when Dean slid back between Cas’ legs and their erections brushed against each other.

They were lost in a tangle of limbs and sighs and growls as their mouths met in passion and hands roved over bodies. Dean let out a guttural groan when Cas’ nails raked over the muscles of his chest and he threw his head back, his fingers bunching in the sheet as Castiel’s mouth latched onto his neck and their hips rolled, grinding together. Dean was already so hard and the sweat was already shining on his muscular body as he pulled away and yanked his boxers off. His fingers slid under the band of Castiel’s boxers and ripped them away from the angel’s hips. 

The angel looked up at the hunter, his lips parted, his chest heaving, his cheeks flushed, and his pupils dilated with lust. Dean was torn. His angel was lying beneath him, naked and yearning and quite obviously aroused, and yet so innocent to the carnal ways of humans. Dean wanted to show him everything. He wanted Cas to taste him, he wanted to taste Cas himself, he wanted the angel to come undone before his eyes and scream his name to the Heavens. His eyes sparked and he knew how to deflower his angel. He knew how to make him blaspheme.

He trailed his tongue over the planes of Cas’ chest and he breathed in the angel’s ear, “You want this?”

“No, Dean,” Castiel murmured, his brow furrowing in irritation at the hunter’s stupidity, “I thought I had made this clear. I want _you_.” 

Dean slipped his fingers into his mouth and swirled his tongue around them, ensuring they were as wet and slippery as possible. “Spread your legs.”

There was a flash of panic in the angel’s eyes and Dean smirked confidently down at Castiel as he reached down to slide his first finger into Cas’ tight little hole. Dean watched as Cas arched, his eyes squeezing shut and his lips parting as a small cry wormed it’s way free from the depths of his chest. Dean gave him a moment to adjust before slipping a second finger in, working them together. He knew enough about the male anatomy to know that the prostate gland was extremely sensitive, much like a woman’s G-spot. He twisted and spread his fingers, watching as Cas moaned and tensed. After a moment, Castiel relaxed and his blue eyes opened cautiously to look up at Dean. He gave the most tentative of nods and Dean withdrew his fingers, taking a deep breath and steeling himself. He had never done this before, but oh he wanted to see his angel come undone.

The noise that emerged from Castiel’s throat when Dean’s cock slid into him was divine. Divine and absolutely unholy at the same time. He arched and his eyes squeezed shut, his handsome face flushing in a way that made Dean’s heart pound. He sat there and waited for Cas to open his eyes again and give him the okay. After a moment, Cas’ long-fingered hand snaked around the back of Dean’s neck and pulled him down for a fierce kiss. Cas was a fast learner, he was already experimenting with his tongue and teeth. Dean took this to mean that he was happily adjusted and slowly began to move his hips, gently at first.

It was strange, the logical part of Dean’s brain reflected, how rough and aggressive he was when he had sex with women and yet now, with Cas sighing and slowly writhing underneath him, how tender and gentle his caresses were. He loved his angel. His hands pulled Castiel’s legs around his waist, slowly rolling his hips forward and watching Cas’ hands twist into the comforter on the bed in response. The little angel’s chest was heaving with every gasp and moan, his neck tight and his eyelashes fluttering. The crooks of his knees bent snugly around Dean’s elbows as the hunter leaned forward to claim those heavenly lips as his own, picking up his pace a little now that Cas was adjusted.

If Dean was honest, fucking Cas was better than any other woman he had ever had….ever. Cas was so sweet and tight and warm, but the sinful noises rolling off his tongue were so naturally sexy that Dean had a hard time believing that he was the only one the angel had ever had.

Cas’ eyes opened and Dean smirked at the little spark of impatience in those blue eyes, then swore when the sharp jab of Cas’ slender hips jerked upward and his muscles contracted around Dean, making the hunter gasp and lose his pace. A wicked smile played around the angel’s lips and Dean twisted his fingers into Cas’ dark hair, slamming his mouth against the other man’s. Cas groaned into his mouth, his nails raking across Dean’s back, leaving trails of red and Dean growled, his green eyes darkening as his lips moved to the angel’s neck and he bit his lover’s skin. Castiel cried out, arching deliciously and prompting Dean to move a little faster and a little rougher, one hand reaching down to wrap around Castiel’s cock, pumping him in time with Dean’s thrusts. 

The angel quieted his moans by latching his mouth onto Dean’s collarbone, trying to sit up, but Dean’s strong hands pushed him back. Silence was unacceptable. He wanted to hear every noise that he coaxed out of his angel. He knew Castiel’s angelic strength could overpower his own, and somehow knowing that Castiel was _letting_ him take the lead was incredibly hot. He pulled Cas’ hips up against him and the angel spluttered out a loud expletive he had heard from Dean and Dean growled, leaning down to leave a red bite-mark on Cas’ shoulder. The angel’s nails scraped down Dean’s biceps and the hunter’s thrusts became deeper and harder. His cock brushed against something firm and he figured it was the prostate by the way Castiel swore, the blasphemies uttered by his gravelly voice nearly sending Dean over the edge right there.

“Where _did_ you pick up such foul language?” he asked in a playful growl, his hand still pumping at Cas’ cock, making him moan and writhe. The angel’s eyes snapped open and they were such a clear, beautiful blue that Dean momentarily forgot how to breathe. 

It also didn’t help that, in a sudden movement, Cas was on top of him, his weight pinning Dean to the mattress. The angel looked unblinkingly down at him, his handsome face positively feral as he hissed, “I’ve heard the things you whisper in the darkness when the alcohol had dulled your inhibitions. I’ve heard every one of your _prayers_ , Dean.”

He grabbed the hunter’s head and pressed his lips feverishly against Dean’s, his hips jerking and grinding, making sure Dean’s cock pressed against his prostate with every one of the hunter’s now unconscious thrusts. Dean groans loudly, his head falling back onto the mattress, the sweat gleaming on his muscled chest as Cas rolled his hips sinfully, panting against the curve of Dean’s neck.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean growled, clenching his teeth. His hands gripped the angel’s hips, forcing him to move faster, “Fuck…..Cas…Cas!...Oh, god yes…Jesus, Cas….”

He peeked up at his angel and swore again. Fuck, Castiel was beautiful. Not even good-looking, attractive, or even handsome. He was _beautiful_. His dark hair was so artfully mussed and his heavenly blue eyes were fluttering with pleasure as his warrior’s muscle rippled under his skin. His lips were parted and a stream of unintelligible words were pouring forth, some were English, most of it was Enochian, but Dean distinctly heard his own name repeated several times and the logical part of his brain reminded him that Castiel was his now. Out of all the billions of people on the Earth and out of the thousands of years Castiel had been in existence, he was giving himself to Dean Winchester. 

And he was going to make it fucking memorable. His hand reached down to jerk Cas’ cock again and the angel snarled something in Enochian which Dean didn’t understand, but he was too far lost in passion to care. This was amazing. He was having fantastic sex with his angel and it was the best thing in the world. 

Then something happened. 

Cas’ hand closed over the seared handprint of their first touch on Dean’s shoulder and everything _shifted_. The colours were too vibrant and pulsing, everything was intense and contrasting, his ears were filled with a rippling, fluttering sound. His senses were overloaded and it was all too much…too much…He closed his eyes and there was a pulsing, spiralling wavelength of pure, white light burning behind his eyelids. He could _feel_ it snaking from the place where his heart was beating frantically, down to the burned handprint and through it into the amazing font of celestial light that was Castiel. He could see the power of his Grace, could feel it connect them on a deep, _profound_ level. The lights started sparking and, his green eyes sparkling with celestial power, Dean locked eyes with his angel. 

Cas could feel it too. He felt the pounding beat that was his lover’s heart, his _humanity_ , and he felt the passage of time and the intensity of every emotion. He had never felt more human. His eyes burned an impossibly bright shade of heavenly blue. The lights flashed, he could feel his wings, invisible to the human eyes, unfurling and quivering in his pleasure and he arched, rocking his hips against Dean’s once more. 

Dean had never felt more pure and divine, he saw the glory that was his angel, he saw the halo of light around his head and the gleaming, glossy black of his wings, flickering in and out of focus as the angel and the human mated, sharing their passion and their love in a sacred and beautiful act. They were together as one, joined, mated, _bonded_. They climaxed together, the human grunting out a string of praises ending with the name of his lover, and the angel screaming profanities ending with the cry of his hunter’s name.

Their climax coursed through both of them, the sparks from the lights landing on their sweating bodies and fizzling out, the glow from where the angel’s hand was clamped around the hunter’s shoulder bathing the lovers in a hazy, lazy light, bright and pure, which put the sunlight to shame. Castiel pulled his hand away from the mark and collapsed onto Dean’s chest, loose and limber and utterly sated. Some part of Dean’s mind knew they should clean up the liquid evidence, but he was too relaxed and happy to move.

Huh. Dean was happy. _Happy_. With his angel. The angel he loved. And the angel who loved him back. His limbs tangled with Cas’ almost entirely on their own and they lay together, gasping for breath and inhaling the other’s scent, drunk on pleasure and utterly at peace, completely satisfied to rest in each other’s arms forever. At least until the feminine voice of the witch floated up the stairs and to their ears. 

“Will you please turn the goddam lights back on? There are people trying to read down here!”


End file.
